


Not in a Million Years

by CubbieGirl1723



Series: Teacher's Pet [1]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, LV AU WEEK, THERE’S ONLY ONE BED, student council forever, tropefest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/pseuds/CubbieGirl1723
Summary: Student Council Advisors Ms. Veronica Mars and Mr. Logan Echolls—who hate each other—have to chaperone a trip together. What could go wrong?
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Series: Teacher's Pet [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819003
Comments: 47
Kudos: 105
Collections: LV AU WEEK 2020





	Not in a Million Years

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Elliebear, Aurora2020, and MarshmellowBobcat for taking a look at this!

* * *

Veronica looks up from her lesson plan, startled by the knock on her photography classroom door. 

“Ms. Mars.” Principal Clemmons assesses her. “I trust your first week at Neptune High is going well?”

She smooths down her green blouse and tries not to look flustered as she moves to greet him. “Oh, yes. It’s challenging but I’m enjoying myself.”

Which is code for:  _ I’m exhausted and drowning in class procedures but I’m grateful to have a job.  _

“Excellent. I’d like to introduce Logan Echolls, your Student Council Co-Advisor.” 

Oh, right. In all the first week of school chaos, she’s forgotten that she agreed to that. 

Mr. Clemmons steps aside, gesturing at the reluctant man lurking behind him. Tall, with artfully mused brown hair, a straight nose and a chiseled jawline, he might be cute if he smiled. He fills out his blue button-down shirt quite nicely and Veronica’s eyes are drawn to the delicious stretch of his forearms revealed by rolled up sleeves. He seems to be about her age, too. 

Why didn’t Wallace mention this guy when he was giving her the rundown on the faculty? 

His brown eyes snap up and down her body, then go wide. With fear or surprise, she’s not sure which. The air sizzles between them. He takes a step backwards. 

“Hi.”

She holds out her hand, then runs it along her black pencil skirt when his hands stay firmly in the pockets of his grey dress pants. 

“Well, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

Clemmons turns on his heel and heads back down the hallway, presumably to his office. 

“So. Student Council, huh?” She tries again. His eyes dart side to side, refusing to meet hers. 

“I guess.” He glances at his watch, swallows. “Look, I’ve gotta go put the finishing touches on my lessons for tomorrow. We can email or something.”

“But—”

Before she has time to say, “But I don’t know the first thing about Student Council,” he’s gone, fleeing in the direction of the social studies wing. 

What’s with the frosty reception? Wallace said to watch out for most everyone in the math department and the band director but didn’t mention this guy. What did she do wrong?

* * *

At first, she thought she and Logan just got off on the wrong foot—although she still has no idea why. But now she’s beginning to suspect that he’s just a jackass. 

It turns out NHS Student Council is responsible for planning all the fall Homecoming festivities. But Logan consistently ignores her emails, dodges her in the teacher’s lounge, and manages to never be in his classroom when she stops by after school. He does attend the morning meetings with their officers, smiling at all the students, encouraging them to take the lead organizing the pep rally, Homecoming court elections, and the dance. After the meetings are dismissed, though, his face loses all trace of warmth and he can’t be bothered to stick around and help her with any of the actual details. Any time they do speak, his words are ground out at her through clenched teeth. 

Which is how Veronica finds herself alone in her classroom, tallying Homecoming Queen votes by herself at 9 p.m. 

_ It’s fine. I don’t want him around, anyway. Even if he is pretty to look at.  _

“He’s a dick,” she mutters as she makes another check mark by Ashlee Quinn’s name. “Selfish bastard.”

She’s seen the flirty smiles he sends to the dusty English teachers. He has the capacity to be charming. What did she do that was so wrong? 

She fantasizes about having her dad look up Logan’s address. Maybe a little petty vandalism would make her feel better. Or she could blackmail him into doing his stupid job…

Sighing, she gives a vote to Emily Pruitt. She won’t do any of those things—the students like him too much and she’s not going to stoop so low. 

But planning how to destroy his life still feels good. 

She lets herself envision a flaming bag of dog poop on his front step as she tallies another vote. No, she doesn’t know what his step looks like, but details don’t need to hold her imagination back. Besides, he deserves it.

* * *

“But we can't change the theme now,” she spits out through gritted teeth. “We already bought all the snowflakes.”

“Return ‘em.” Her co-advisor shrugs, looming above her. “It’s easy enough.”

Her blood boils beneath the surface and she tries to smooth her face into an impassive mask in front of the students. 

“Mr. Echolls,” she grabs his sleeve, “can I speak to you in the hall for a second?”

Before he has a chance to answer one way or the other, she drags him out of the gymnasium that they’re trying to turn into a Winter Wonderland and slams the door shut behind so no one will overhear.

“Look, I know this is all way too important for you and your time—“

“I never said that. I come to all the meetings. I just think that if it’s  _ Student _ Council, then all the students should have a say in things.”

“But they did,” she shoots back. “They proposed themes and voted and—“

“It’s snowflake themed every year. You probably didn’t have to buy anything, just recycle the stuff from last year. If they want to do something more original, I think we should support it.”

“Dirty Dancing?” She sputters, her cheeks hot. “You can’t see why that would be a problem?”

He shrugs, his indifference infuriating her even further. “It’s not a big deal.”

“And how do you even decorate for that? I mean—“

“Let the kids figure it out, Mars.” Throwing his hands up in the air, he stalks away from her but she’s too angry for that. She grips his muscled bicep and spins him back to face her. 

“Part of  _ advising _ is not letting them do truly inappropriate things.” Her voice rises with each word. “And I’m pretty sure we—“

“Who cares?” He crosses his arms and glares down at her. “Just play  _ (I’ve Had) The Time of my Life _ and roll with it.”

_ She _ cares. She doesn’t know why but this ass has gotten under her skin and she’s furious. In this moment, she irrationally, desperately needs to win this argument.

“What about all the work they’ve already done making snowflakes? And what about the costumes people are going to wear?” Veronica knows she’s yelling in his face but in her rage, she forgets to be concerned about eavesdroppers anymore. “And the grinding that’s going to happen? I can’t believe you’re encouraging that!”

“It’s Neptune, not the town from Footloose,” he growls, leaning down to crowd into her space. “I’m not encouraging anything, just letting the students lead!”

Before Veronica can reply, the gym door bursts open. 

“Ms. Mars, where is the…” Amy, brown ponytail swinging, bounces over to them but trails off, glancing between the two teachers. “Um, the ladder?”

Veronica takes a step back from Logan. With their close proximity, the way he was in her face and her chest was heaving, it probably looked like he was about to kiss her. 

_ Get it together, girl. _

“Janitors’ closet.” She pastes a smile on her face for Amy. “Pretty sure that’s where they keep the ladder. Here are my keys.”

Fishing the lanyard from her back pocket, she tosses them to the student. 

“Thanks!” Amy bounds back into the gym, hopefully forgetting the moment of tension she witnessed. 

“Look. I just think—“

“Well, you’re wrong.” She cuts him off, blowing past him back into the gym and slamming the door closed on his stupid argument. 

But when he doesn’t enter after her, she spins around to give him another piece of her mind. 

Opening the door in time to see him disappear out the main entrance to the parking lot, Veronica sprints out. Now he thinks he can just ditch her?

Storming over to a midnight blue BMW, Logan blinks the lights and climbs in the driver’s side. 

Of course he drives a Beemer. On a teachers salary. Because how would everyone know he’s an important asshole otherwise?

“Five minutes in a room with him would do it,” Veronica growls to herself. 

Would another set of hands really make that much of a difference? Probably not. But Echolls is getting paid for this Student Council gig, the same piddly amount as her. So if she has to decorate this gym, he should be stuck here helping, too. 

He better not try to weasel his way out of the overnight field trip they have to attend next month. 

* * *

“Oh, no way. I’m not driving.” Veronica stands outside the white minibus, pulls her jacket tighter around her body. “I haven’t been trained.”

“Come on,” Logan whines. “It’s just making left-hand turns and stopping at railroads. I’m sure you’re capable.”

“Nope. This is all you.” She shoves the binder containing the keys and mileage forms for the bus—that she had to requisition, thank you very much—into his firm chest and spins on her heel. “I’ve filled out every piece of paperwork to get us to this point, you can at least drive.”

Prying the double doors open, she stomps onto the bus and takes a deep breath. No need to let the students see the animosity she feels for her Student Council Co-Advisor. Doing a quick headcount, she scans their faces, trying to remember all their names. Nobody makes eye contact, either engaged with their cell phones or already asleep. 

Since it’s a school-sponsored trip and all, she should probably insist they put their phones away. But it’s not like there’s anything else to do on a bus at 5 a.m. so she lets it slide. There will be plenty of time for group bonding later. 

Nudging her backpack out of the way, she slides into the bench seat behind the driver and lets her own eyes drift close. 

“Hey.” Logan drops a pile of papers in her lap, startling her. “Can you put those away for me? I was going to use this time to grade essays but I guess I’m driving.”

His sarcastic tone makes her want to punch his pretty face. He might be handsome but he is a giant jerk. To her, at least. 

Glaring, she shoves his papers under her bag. 

“And you’re going to have to navigate me because I have no idea where we’re going,” he demands, sliding into the vinyl driver’s seat. “Everybody here?”

“Yep. First stop, Starbucks. I’m gonna need so much caffeine to make it through this weekend. Please,” she adds as an afterthought. 

“Finally something we agree on, Mars.” 

Cranking the engine, the decrepit bus roars to life. Traveling in the lap of luxury it’s not, but no one said the life of a teacher was glamorous. 

Sighing, Veronica sits back and closes her eyes again. Sometimes she’s not entirely sure how she ended up here; being a high school teacher was never her life plan, not in a million years. But a photography degree has its limits. Photojournalism had been her goal but after her dad was injured on the job this summer, she moved back to California to be closer to him. Her best friend Wallace, a math teacher at Neptune High and the basketball coach, got her an interview and days later, she joined the art department. 

In her interview, Principal Clemmons explained that all teachers were required to help with extracurricular activities and that heading up the Photography Club just wouldn't cut it. Coincidentally, the Student Council was in need of two new advisors and, at the time, it didn’t sound like a hard gig. Hold elections, meet once a month, sell candy bars. Foolishly, she had agreed, only to discover that the Student Council was in charge of not just Homecoming activities and the Snowflake Ball, but also the winter carnival, the quarterly Red Cross blood drives, the spring sports pep rally, and the bake sale for the children’s hospital. Plus, all Student Council members and advisors were required to attend the state-wide leadership convention this weekend. 

And through it all, her co-advisor, Mr. Logan Echolls, has been nothing short of a nightmare. She doesn’t know what she did to piss him off but their interactions over the past semester leave her infuriated. And he’s smug, too. Why any students or other faculty members like him is beyond her comprehension. 

Now he shows up, expecting her to drive the bus? Is he trying to be purposely incompetent so he gets out of extracurricular activities all together? She should probably just be happy he managed to come on the trip but spending two days with him is equivalent to torture. 

_ It will be a miracle if I survive this weekend. _

Speaking of miracles, the green Starbucks mermaid looms in the distance. 

“Um, does this thing fit in the drive-thru?” she asks as Mr. Jackass barrels around the corner, scraping the curb. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” he mutters over his shoulder. Louder, so the whole bus can hear, he calls, “Hey Pirates, who wants Starbucks? My treat!”

Free Starbucks take the dozen students from asleep and apathetic to singing his praises in seconds. Veronica tries not to scowl as she’s forced to go take orders and listen to how cool Mr. Echolls is. Relaying the complicated drink requests back to him, she indulges in an eye roll. 

“What, Mars? You disapprove of coffee now?” 

“You’re buying their affection. It’s a bribe.”

“And it’s working,” he snaps. “Are you going to order anything?”

She’s tempted to say no, to show him that she’s not fooled by his antics...but coffee…

“I pay my own way, Echolls.”

He huffs. “Fine, do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Stony silence descends between them as she passes out the drinks to the students. Sipping her grande java chip mocha, she gives him terse directions and then pops in her earbuds, determined to let the coffee soothe her nerves and help her get into a better headspace. 

The coffee helps but the hum of the motor beneath her, the dim light outside, and too little rest for the last month combine to put her to sleep. 

She’s in the middle of a truly excellent dream about chocolate cake with chocolate ganache when a hand on her shoulder startles her awake. 

“Miss Mars!” She blinks sleepily, stares into the dark brown eyes and ebony face of her Student Council President, Zach. “Where are we going, again?”

“Alta Vista in Santa Barbara.” She stretches, yawns. “Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I just saw a sign for Tijuana.”

“Shit.” She covers her mouth. “I mean, shoot. Thanks, Zach.”

Hopping up in her seat, she peers over Logan’s shoulder and Zach wisely moves back to his spot. 

“Echolls, what were you thinking? You’re going the wrong way!”

“What do you mean?” His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. 

Jabbing her finger at his window, she points at the mile marker sign. “You idiot, the numbers should be getting bigger, not smaller.”

“I told you I didn’t know where we were going! You shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” he argues. “Get your ass behind the white line.”

Glancing down at her black motorcycle boots, she scoots her toes back. Throwing the driver another eye roll, she snarks, “Can you manage to turn around by yourself or do you need directions for that?”

“Shut up.” He pulls the wheel, sending her careening into the window, bumping her head on the glass. 

“I hate you,” she mutters. 

With a tight smile, she glances over her shoulder at Zach and meets his eye, giving him a thumbs up.  _ Good catch, kid. _

Looking up the directions on her phone, she proceeds to repeat every step for him loudly in her most condescending tone, taking joy as his jaw clenches each time. 

Thankfully the students are oblivious to the tension between their teachers, the growing light in the sky and Starbucks fueling their chatter. And really, they weren’t that far out of their way, they probably won’t be too late. Not like she’s going to tell her co-worker that, though. 

Keeping her words clipped, she continues to give him overly detailed directions. To her annoyance, he keeps his temper in check and they make decent time—for a vehicle that’s not supposed to exceed 55 miles per hour. 

Finally, Logan pulls into the Alta Vista lot and parks at the back of a sea of white minibuses. Veronica gathers her papers and stretches, stands to face their charges. She opens her mouth to give directions—

“Okay, Pirates. Remember that you are representing Neptune High and act accordingly. Grab your bags and follow me.”

Her mouth drops open. The guy who’s done nothing for this trip yet, who didn’t even know how to get here, is suddenly in charge? 

Tossing her the keys, he smirks and hops down the bus steps. “Lock up for me?”

Pressing her lips together, she complies, locks the double doors and shoulders her bag. Climbing out the driver’s side door, she locks it as well and hurries to catch up to the rear of their group.

Following the signs and increasing noise, they make their way to the registration table. Behind a dozen high school students, Veronica, at 5’1”, can’t see anything but tries to project an air of authority. The group moves through the check-in line as the volunteers hand out ID tags and folders. 

“And what grade are you in, dear?”

Blinking, she stares at the teacher manning the registration table. She glances down at her outfit. Yeah, she’s wearing jeans and the mandatory green and yellow student council t-shirt, but she thought the motorcycle boots and black blazer would help. 

_ Apparently not _ . 

“I’m an advisor,” she snaps. 

“Oh, sorry. Enjoy being mistaken for a student now—it won’t last. He has your tag.” The teacher waves her through the line, turning to the people behind her, and Logan chuckles. 

Fuming, she holds her hand out for her materials. 

“Hmm, did they give me an advisor tag for you? Or did you get registered as a student?” 

His eyes twinkle with mirth and if she didn’t want to kick him, she might enjoy it. 

“Logan. I registered everyone. I know there are two advisor packets there.”

Unrepentant, he shrugs and hands over her supplies. At 6 feet tall and ridiculously broad-shouldered, there’s no way he has to worry. No one will think those muscles belong to a high school student. 

“Alright, let's get these guys situated in their groups and then we are free.”

“Wait, what? Mr. Clemmons said we have to stay with them, keep an eye on things and attend the leadership conference.” 

“Look around, Mars.” He gestures expansively. “There’re tons of teachers here. What can they possibly get away with?”

“You have to be kidding me. What sort of trouble can they get in? I guess the rumors I heard about your high school days weren’t true.”

Snapping her mouth closed, she wishes she could take it back. Wallace had gossiped about Logan’s rocky high school career over drinks a few weeks ago. It’s probably common knowledge but she winces. That doesn’t mean she should have brought it up. 

His eyes flash at her words and she has the distinct impression that if she wasn’t a woman, he’d punch her in the face. As it is, he looms over her, practically vibrating with intensity, and inhales deeply. So much for that jovial moment earlier. 

“Do whatever you want. I’ll see you later,” he mutters, spinning on his heel. 

“Wait, Logan.” Grabbing his forearm, she halts his retreat. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He keeps his eyes fixed on hers and must decide she’s sincere because he sighs and runs a hand over his hair. Realizing she’s still touching him, she quickly drops her hand. 

“Yeah, okay. It’s—not a big deal.” 

She’s pretty sure it is, though. Bringing up past mistakes isn’t fair; he’s made enough lately that she doesn’t need to resort to low blows. 

“Big deal or not, I’m sorry.” 

“Look,” he confides, stepping closer to her, “Mrs. Murphy told me she always spent all of these conventions in the advisor hospitality room. I figure we get the kids where they need to be and then go see if we can find that? They probably have bad teacher’s lounge coffee.”

He sing-songs the words like this is a treat. “Then we’ll check back in on the kids. Deal?”

He really does have a charming smile. She doesn’t want to be affected by it but her resolve starts to weaken. And accepting the olive branch between them is probably wise. 

“Well...coffee…”

“Exactly.”

After making sure their students are in the correct workshop small groups, they set a meeting place for the leadership session later and follow the haggard trail of tired teachers to the advisor hospitality room. 

Of course it is in the teacher’s lounge and of course there’s bad coffee. But Veronica is pleased to note there’s also bagels, chocolate, and soda. Enough to get her through the morning. 

Doctoring her coffee with cream and extra sugar, she snags the last cinnamon chip bagel and finds a hard blue plastic chair. To her surprise, Logan plops down next to her. 

“So. First year at Neptune, right?” He asks, right after she takes a bite of her breakfast. 

Nodding, she swallows. “Yep. You?”

“Nah. This is my fifth year teaching.”

“But first year doing Student Council?”

“Yeah. Poor Mrs. Murphy, I think it was a lot for one person to tackle and everyone else on the faculty knew it. I didn’t pay close enough attention, though, and since I didn’t want to coach wrestling, this was pretty much my only option.”

Veronica chuckles. “Mr. Clemmons basically told me it was part of the job when he hired me.”

“Would you believe Van tried to convince me it was student government and therefore my duty as a social studies teacher? Planning pep rallies and bake sales is not quite what I had in mind.”

He clears his throat, twirls a plastic stir stick. “So sorry if I’ve kinda left some of the details for you to figure out. I’d still rather do this than wrestling. I’ll try to pull my weight.”

“Wrestling’s that bad, huh?” She studies him over the rim of her styrofoam cup. He grimaces, sips his black coffee. 

“Just not my thing. So I know you got your job right before school started. Someone said you know Wallace Fennel?”

“Yeah, he was’s my best friend in from high school.”  _ Helped me survive my alcoholic mom killing a pedestrian and abandoning me, _ she doesn’t add. “I was working in New York, taking pictures, but my dad had an accident, needed me home. And I eventually needed a job so Wallace got me an interview. Mr. Clemmons must have been desperate.”

She laughs awkwardly as she says this but Logan shakes his head. The intense look is back on his face. 

“Van had tons of applicants for the photography teacher job. He picked you because he thought you’d be the best fit.”

Sitting in stunned silence, Veronica’s not sure what to say. 

“Or maybe just you were the only one who didn’t balk at Student Council.”

He smiles and stands. “Should we go check on them?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

All of their charges are actually where they’re supposed to be. After peeking in on their workshops, Veronica and Logan have just enough time to grab drinks from the hospitality room—Coke for her and water for him— and stake out a block of seats for their group before the large-group session begins. 

Whatever Veronica expected from a Student Council Leadership Convention, strobe lights, fog machines, and thousands of high schoolers dancing to loud music in a gymnasium was not it. 

“Ugh.” She holds the cool can of soda to her forehead, hoping it will ease the pounding. 

“Headache?” Logan asks. At her nod he fishes a bottle of Advil out of his messenger bag and dangles it in front of her. 

“I’ll share on one condition—you have to tell me three things about yourself.”

She makes a face but holds out her hand. “But I have veto power.”

He rattles the Advil. “You sure about that?”

“Fine. Three questions.”

Snatching the bottle from him, she palms two pills, rethinks it and adds a third, before tossing them in her mouth and washing them down with a swallow of Coke. 

“What are you most excited about this weekend?”

“Besides our sweet wheels? I love being chauffeured everywhere.”

He barks a laugh and she can tell she’s taken him by surprise. 

“Actually, I know it sounds cliche,” she gestures around at the gymnasium full of noisy teenagers, “but I actually enjoy these kids. The ones we brought. They are so eager and excited about everything. It’s refreshing.”

“Not jaded by life yet like us adults?”

“Yeah.”

“I get that, it’s not cliche.” He taps his finger to his chin. “Hmm. Question two. Who is your favorite fictional character?”

“Oooh, that’s tricky. Either Nancy Drew or Hermione Granger.” She sips her Coke, her headache already starting to recede. 

“Why?” Logan crosses his arms over his broad chest and raises an eyebrow. 

“Is that question three?” 

He huffs at her. “You drive a hard bargain. Yes, I suppose if I have to use a question for it, I will.”

“Okay. I like Nancy Drew because she’s kickass and nobody’s sidekick. And Hermione is obvious—she’s really the brains of the whole operation. Harry and Ron would have accomplished nothing without her.”

“You’re not wrong,” he concedes, sitting down in a wobbly folding chair. A hush falls over the gym as the speaker takes the stage and Veronica grabs the chair next to him, doing a quick headcount and making sure all 12 students are within her sightline. 

After an hour and a half of leadership motivation and icebreaker games, she’s happy to stand and stretch. Logan raises his arms over his head, revealing a tanned stretch of skin between the hem of his t-shirt and his jeans. Then he bends his arms, making his biceps bulge. 

_ Damn. How did a social studies teacher get so ripped?  _

She tries—unsuccessfully—to roll the kinks out of her shoulders, forcing herself to look away. 

“Want me to rub your shoulders for you?” He offers casually. Her eyes snap to his but he’s not leering or flirting. She wonders what it would feel like to have his big hands caressing her skin. 

“Um—“

“Ms. Mars, how much longer until lunch?”

Relieved she doesn’t have to figure out how to answer Logan’s question, she spins to the girl next to her and checks her watch 

“About half an hour, Katie.”

Sighing, the student sinks back into her chair. “Okay. I’m starving.”

Veronica holds up her index finger before digging in her backpack, then tosses her a protein bar. 

“Thanks!” Katie’s grateful smile lights up her face. “You’re pretty cool, Ms Mars.”

_ Huh. Maybe this Student Council thing is okay _ . 

* * *

The boxed lunches in the cafeteria aren’t exactly gourmet but their group commandeers a round table and squeezes a few extra chairs in, all sitting together. 

Veronica’s content to listen as Logan asks the kids various questions—favorite song right now, favorite TV show, favorite class at school. She’s surprised at how well they respond to him—aren’t teens supposed to be moody and difficult? But something about having his full attention on her makes her want to open up so she understands. 

He’s slowly making his way around the table, asking different questions, letting the conversation flow, when his eyes light on her. 

“So Ms. Mars. Where’d you grow up?”

She swallows the bite of snickerdoodle in her mouth. 

“Uh, Pan, actually. It’s about half an hour inland from Neptune. You guys know it?”

Various students nod their heads around the table. 

“How’d you end up in Neptune, then?” 

The question’s asked innocently enough by Elise as she tosses her curtain of long brown hair over her shoulder but Veronica understands the underlying confusion. Neptune—seaside beach town, playground to the wealthy and famous, Hollywood elite and Silicon Valley tycoons. Pan is, well, blue-collar. Middle class. Less glamour and more...normal. Only 15 miles apart but worlds away. 

But Elise doesn’t turn her nose up at Veronica’s background, just waits expectantly with curiosity shining in her eyes. 

_Ah. As the new teacher, she’s still a bit mysterious._ _Might as well embrace it, Veronica._

“Well, I left after high school,” she pops a potato chip in her mouth, chews. “But my dad still lives there and he got—hurt at work.”

It’s still hard for her to talk about his accident. She tries to gloss over it, hopes they don’t notice her hesitation and ask. 

“So anyway, I moved back home and got a job in Neptune. I like it a lot.” She smiles winningly at them, trying to distract with flattery.

“What does your dad do?”

_ No such luck _ . 

That question came from Logan. He’s turned the full force of his intense gaze on her and his brown eyes are doing something to her insides that she’d rather not analyze. 

“He’s the sheriff.”

“Your dad’s a cop? Dude, that would suck.” Ben laughs, then catches Logan’s warning glare. “I mean—sorry, Ms. Mars, it’s just—“

But she laughs, cuts him off. “You’re not wrong, Ben. There were tons of times it sucked in high school, and even now. Overprotective fathers don't just disappear when you’re in your twenties.”

“Is he okay?” Ben blurts. 

“He will be.” Veronica smiles, decides to shift the focus to someone else. “So if law enforcement’s not your thing, Ben, what does strike your fancy?”

Logan gives her the barest nod of approval as they listen to Ben’s thoughts on communications versus business as a college major next year. 

Their free time flies quickly by, chatting and laughing with the group, and Veronica’s surprised when the lunch break is over and it’s time for the second session. 

* * *

Admittedly, she mostly zones out during the conference session on creating a positive learning environment through after school tutoring programs. And the one on combatting bullying through social media.

The kids seem into it, though, and chatter excitedly on the minibus on their way to grab dinner. 

Until she actually catches a snatch of their conversation and realizes anti-bullying tactics are not on their minds. 

“Do you think the DJ will be any good? Do you think that cute guy from Southwestern will dance with me?”

She eavesdrops, then glances over her shoulder. “Erica, what are you talking about?”

“The dance tonight, Ms. Mars!”

The girls return to their chatter and she pulls out her schedule, flipping through it quickly. “No, it says there’s an ice cream social tonight.”

“Weren’t you paying attention? They announced at the last session that they changed it!”

“But...ice cream…”

Logan catches her dejected eye in the rearview mirror, smirks at her. 

“Cheer up, Mars. There’s other stuff, too. Bouncy houses and inflatable games.”

But her heart had been set on chocolate fudge and maraschino cherries. 

He laughs at her pout. “I’ll buy you an ice cream cone after dinner. Will that help?”

“Make it a Sundae and then we’ll talk.”

The wide smile that stretches his face feels...almost flirty. But that can’t be right...not in a million years. Her stomach does a flip at the glint in his eyes. 

It’s probably just the thought of ice cream. 

* * *

After a quick dinner out, where Logan makes everyone share their most embarrassing moment and has them in stitches over his—a story involving a Renaissance history lesson, the Statue of David, and a Freudian slip—they head back to the high school for the evening entertainment. 

As long as she avoids the main gym, full of thumping music and sweaty, gyrating bodies, it’s not so bad. With board games in the band room and inflatables in the auxiliary gym, there’s plenty of options. 

All the teachers have been asked to keep an eye on things so she and Logan basically make a continuous loop of the school, checking in on their students and the attendees in general, laughing and chatting as they go. 

“This is awkward, but…” Logan looks at his shoes and her heart lurches. Is he going to ask her out? Make a pass at her?

“I know all the kids we brought with us are trustworthy. However, even good kids can make bad choices. And if I had been at something like this in high school,” he gives a rueful chuckle, and Veronica mentally kicks herself for thinking he’d be anything less than professional, “not like I would have been invited, of course. But I would have snuck off and...well.” 

He clears his throat, leaving her to fill in the blanks. 

“Maybe we should go check the dark corners? Mop closets?” she offers with a grin, nudging his shoulder and trying to put him at ease. “I get it. I was in high school too, Echolls.”

“Yeah.”

Much of the high school is wisely barricaded and off-limits but they check the band practice rooms and supply closets—both locked and student-free as they should be.

Logan ducks his head into an alcove between the choir room and the auditorium. 

“Huh. Empty. I guess maybe I didn’t give these kids enough credit.”

She steps into the small, dark corner with him, glances around. 

“I totally would have gotten caught making out here in high school,” he confesses, dark eyes gazing down at her. 

Her stomach clenches, sending a flare of heat through his body at her words. 

_ Chill out, girl. It’s not like that _ . 

“So you were a bad boy in your formative years?” She aims for a light, flirty tone but her voice is huskier than she intended. 

Logan takes a step closer. 

“The baddest.” Is it just her or is he leaning towards her? “I’m mostly reformed now but it does help me outsmart the troublemakers. What about you?”

“Hmm?” 

_ God, he smells good _ . Like sandalwood and the ocean. Her brain is having a hard time keeping up.

“What kind of kid were you in high school?”

“Oh.” She blinks, tries to focus. “Sheriff’s daughter.”

Veronica punctuates her words by pointing her thumbs at her chest. 

“So classmates either thought it was a good idea to befriend me, get me—and therefore my dad—on their side, or they didn’t want anything to do with me in case I was a narc.” She shrugs. “I mostly kept to myself. Wallace was one of my few friends. Not as exciting as...Hollywood royalty.”

She raises her eyebrows, waiting to see if he will bite. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighs. 

“Ah. That.”

“Wallace mentioned a little something…”

She doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable but for all Logan has spent the entire weekend trying to get to know everyone else better, he’s been pretty tight-lipped about anything personal in his life. Maybe it’s just common knowledge in Neptune but she’s always been curious. And her dad encourages thorough background checks. 

“My parents were movie stars. My dad slept with my girlfriend in high school and when it came out, my mom divorced him and moved us from LA to Neptune. I was messed up for a while but Ms. James—she was my guidance counselor—helped me figure some stuff out. She’s actually part of the reason I decided to go to college, become a teacher.”

“Oh.” Veronica’s not sure what to say to that. She wants to slide her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and pull his lips down to meet hers, but that’s crazy. She hated Logan Echolls this morning. What’s going on here?

Instead, she holds his stare. “Thanks for telling me.”

Licking his lips, he gazes down at her, focused. His eyes bounce quickly to her mouth, then back up. 

_ Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to? What would happen if he did?  _

But he steps back, out of the dark alcove into the hallway, jams his hands into his pockets.

“Probably should go check on the kids.”

_ I guess that answers my question.  _

“Yeah.”

He’s so much taller than her but she feels comfortable walking by his side. Safe.

Peeking into the band room at a group playing gin, Logan chuckles. “If it were me, I’d have suggested poker.”

“And I would have destroyed you,” she sing-songs smugly. 

“Oh, really?” He raises an eyebrow. “We’ll have to see about that sometime.”

“It’s a date,” she blurts out, unthinking, then realizes what she said. “I mean, um, teacher poker night. We’ll invite Wallace and—“

She stops. She doesn’t actually know very many faculty members yet. Waving her hand, she says, “Well, and other people, too. It will be fun.”

He slings his arm across her shoulders, casually, brotherly. Like Wallace. But butterflies don’t swoop in her belly when Wallace touches her. 

They head to the auxiliary gym, observing the inflatable games for a while until Ben bounds over to them. 

“Ms. Mars! You gotta race me through the obstacle course!”

She glances down at her boots and blazer, then at the faces of the males in front of her. Ben—open, excited, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed. Logan—eyebrows raised, clearly waiting to see what she will say. 

She hands him her bag, strips off her blazer and unzips her boots. “Hold my stuff.”

Laughing, she chases after Ben. 

Logan waits for them at the end of the course, cheering them both on. She collapses on the floor at his feet.

“Well?”

Holding his fingers an inch apart, he shakes his head. “He beat you by this much.”

He extends his hand, helps her up. She tries not to think about how her fingers tingle where they touch. 

“Alright, Ben, my turn,” he calls, never taking his eyes off her. 

They race their students and each other until Veronica’s out of breath. No one can convince her to get in the sweaty sumo wrestling suit, so she and Logan climb into the large bouncy castle to keep an eye on things.

Sinking down onto the squishy surface, she relaxes against the back wall and stretches her feet out in front of her. Logan sits beside her, shoulder bumping hers companionably. 

“Whew. I’m worried if I stop moving, I’ll fall asleep. But I don’t have endless teenager energy anymore—I can’t keep moving.”

“Think anyone would notice if we took a nap in the bouncy house?” Veronica jokes.

But Logan lays his head on her shoulder. “Just a five minute power nap,” he mumbles. 

She’s glad he can’t see the surprise surely written across her face. His head fits perfectly in the crook of her neck, feels like it belongs there. And she doesn’t know what kind of cologne he wears but, god, the scent is incredible. She’d be happy to stay here all night. 

“Ahhhhh!”

But a group of teens choose that moment to vault into the bouncy castle, yelling and jumping, startling him. 

Logan sighs, rolls to his feet in a movement way too graceful for the inflated surface. 

“Power nap over, I s’pose.”

He helps her up, then has to steady her as the teens bounce them together. His firm chest is warm beneath her fingertips and she has to force herself not to let her hands wander. 

She clears her throat. “No rest for the weary.”

Which is too bad, because her thoughts are spinning. She looks forward to some time alone later to process...whatever this is.

* * *

By the end of the night, Veronica is rethinking her life choices. She’s spent approximately 18 hours with teenagers—dancing, texting, eating, laughing, and generally being loud and needy. She genuinely likes the students they brought and there is something energizing about their youth and excitement, but she’s not sad to drop them off with their host families and bid them goodnight. 

Logan leans against the abandoned registration table, runs a hand through his hair. “I’m exhausted. Are we all set?”

Veronica consults her list. “Yep. And look, we still have,” she consults her watch, “six hours before we have to be excited to be back here.”

“Ugh, Don’t say things like that, Mars.”

Digging in her pocket, she locates and then tosses him the keys. 

“It’s a good thing luxurious rooms at the Holiday Inn await us. Let’s go get some sleep.”

He holds the door open for her, ushers her through, and she pulls her blazer around her, shivering in the cool night air as they walk to the minibus. 

Logan unlocks it and lets her in. She takes a moment to enjoy the blessed silence. 

“Hey, wanna learn how to drive this? I could teach you.” He starts the engine, lets it warm up.

“Nope. Nice try, though. Since I filled out all the paperwork and reserved our hotel rooms and basically did everything else, you can do this.” She keeps her voice light, letting him know she’s teasing, and he smirks at her over his shoulder. 

“Touché, Mars.”

“You can call me Veronica, you know,” she blurts out, not sure where the words came from. “There aren’t any students around.”

_ And you did fall asleep with your head on my shoulder earlier. We should probably be on a first name basis at this point.  _

“Okay. Veronica.” He says her name softly, an intimate whisper, and chills break out over her skin. Probably just still cold on the bus. It has nothing to do with his husky tone. 

He clears his throat. “Where we going?”

“Oh, yeah.” Consulting an email on her phone, she finds directions to the Holiday Inn and helps him navigate them, considerably less condescending than she was earlier in the day. 

_ Maybe he’s not so bad. _ She actually thinks they are becoming...friends. 

And she silences any voices that push for more-than-friends. 

After they reach their destination, grabbing their small carry-ons from the back of the bus, they make their way through the hotel lobby to the front desk. 

“Hi, two rooms under the Neptune High School credit card? Mars and Echolls?” 

She waits expectantly, Logan at her back, while the pimply-faced college kid behind the desk types frantically on his keyboard. 

“Uhhh…”

He looks up at her, confusion glinting in his watery blue eyes. 

“How many rooms did you say, ma’am?”

_ Ma’am, really? And I got mistaken for a high school student this morning.  _

“Two.” She gestures at Logan, looming behind her. 

“Um, let me go get my manager.”

She and Logan exchange a look, raised brows, but wait in silence until the besuited manager comes behind the desk to frown at the monitor and pound on the keys. 

“Names?” He finally asks. 

“Mars and Echolls. Neptune school Department,” she adds, trying to be helpful. 

The manager, a tiny man with greasy brown hair, doesn’t even look at her, just continues to peer at the computer. 

“Unfortunately, I’m only finding one room reserved under that name.”

“Oh, just book another one, no big deal.” Logan whips a Black AmEx out of his wallet, waves it at the hotel manager. 

“I would, sir, but due to the many conferences in town, we’re full. No extra rooms.”

She stares in silence at the manager.  _ This can’t be happening.  _

“But—Really? I mean—“

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do.”

His unrepentant shrug doesn’t make him look sorry at all. She wants to reach across the counter and strangle him. 

“Give is a moment, please.” Logan addresses the manager, then tugs her away from the desk. 

“Veronica, listen. It’s been a long day. This will be fine.” He grimaces. “It’s not ideal but we’ll make it work.”

_ Oh, god. How can I possibly sleep in the same room as him? _

Internally panicking, she somehow manages to nod. 

“Fine,” she croaks, throat dry. 

This doesn’t feel fine but Logan snags the keycard from the manager and she woodenly follows him to the elevator. The silence between them now is anything but comfortable. 

Logan unlocks the door, gestures for her to walk in. She does, and stops in her tracks. 

“Logan. There’s only one bed.”

The room is dominated by a massive king-size bed, covered with a white duvet and fluffy feather pillows. 

“Oh, god.” He runs a haggard hand over his face and now the panic in his eyes matches her own. 

“This is totally inappropriate,” she hisses. “I’m going to get fired and—“

“No one has to know.” He cuts her off, then must realize how it sounds. “I mean, not like that. But—it just might be better—“

“The students will think—“

“Look.” He pauses, takes a deep breath and the moment of quiet helps steady her, too. “I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s still not...great, but…”

He trails off, shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at his shoes. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just one night. Not a big deal.” She gives him a tremulous smile before grabbing her small carry-on. “I’m just gonna get ready for bed.”

He nods and she flees into the sanctuary of the small bathroom. 

Taking her time washing her face and brushing her teeth, Veronica tries to force her heart rate back to normal. Glancing down at the tiny tank top and shorts she brought to sleep in, she wishes for different pajamas. Perhaps a high-necked, floor-length nightgown. Or a zip-up footie onesie. 

When she exits the bathroom, Logan has already made himself a bed on the floor. He’s stretched out on it, still fully clothed, arms behind his head. That strip of skin is visible again between his t-shirt and jeans— _ damn _ —and she has to swallow before she can speak. 

“Bathroom’s free.” 

“I’ll just brush my teeth.” His voice is faint, pained, and she doesn’t look at him as he disappears into the bathroom. 

Flopping on her back, she contemplates the ceiling while he’s gone, trying to clear her mind so she can get some much-needed rest. The sound of the bathroom door closing startles her out of her zen-like state and she glances over at Logan, confused. 

“Why are you still in your clothes?”

He won’t meet her eyes but stares at the floor. “I didn't bring pajamas. I usually sleep, um…”

_ Jesus _ . Her eyes about roll back in her head at thought. 

_ Could this moment be any more awkward? _

She’s struck with the absolute ridiculousness of the situation at that moment and laughter bubbles up inside her chest, spills out. His eyes fly to hers, wide, until his lips curve up in a grin and he joins her, chuckling deeply. 

She giggles until tears run down her cheeks, releasing her nervous tension. 

“Oh my god, this is crazy,” she pants, her laughing fit finally subsiding. “Boxers are like shorts or a bathing suit, right? I want you to be comfortable enough to get some sleep. It’s no big deal.”

Gasping, she covers her mouth. “Unless...tighty whities? Bikinis?”

“No, definitely boxers.” He blushes. It’s adorable. 

“Not what I expected to learn about you this weekend, Echolls, but if it makes you feel better, I wear bikinis. Now we’re even.”

“We’d really be even if you’d show ‘em to me.” Smirking, he toes off his socks, lies down on his pile of blankets on the floor. 

“Not a chance. I’m gonna turn off the light,” she does so, plunging the room into darkness, “and close my eyes, and never see your lack of pajamas.”

She never promises not to think about it, though. 

“Goodnight, Veronica.”

“Goodnight, Logan.”

He rustles around in the dark, from the sound of it, taking off his shirt and pants. Veronica wonders what color his underwear is, whether his chest is hairy or not, if he has scrawny chicken legs. 

Even after the excruciatingly long day, her mind just won’t turn off. So she’s still awake to hear him toss and turn on the hard floor. 

_ We have another long day tomorrow...it will be even longer if we don’t get to rest... and he has to drive… _

_ It was really sweet of him to give me the bed...he’s been nothing but a gentleman...he’s certainly not the jerk I thought he was... _

_ But can you keep your hands to yourself, Veronica? _

Her thoughts wage war in her mind until finally she gives up. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but...this is a king-sized bed. There’s plenty of room. I can even put a pillow in the middle if you're worried,” she rambles, words tumbling out of her mouth to fill the silence, “and I really think you’d be more comfortable and sleep better if you—“

“Are you sure? Because—“

“Yeah.”

She scoots to the far side of the bed, faces the wall. The sheets shift, get tugged and rearranged, as he climbs in. 

“Are you a bed hog?” His voice holds a light, joking note and it helps ease her nerves. 

“No!”

“Blanket hog?”

“Well...I’ve been accused of such behavior but proof was never brought.”

“I’ll be on my guard, then.”

_ As long as my libido stays in check, you have nothing to worry about. _

“Do you snore?” 

He affects a fake-offended tone. “I’m a perfect sleeper, Mars. Much like I do everything else.”

Snorting, she pulls the covers up to her chin, settles in. 

She doesn’t put pillows between them. They’re adults, after all, and there’s plenty of space in the bed. Things will be fine. 

* * *

But in the middle of the night, Logan’s strong arm snakes around her waist, pulls her tight against his lean body. 

Her eyes snap open and she stops breathing. 

“Logan?” she whispers. 

He mutters something about waffles and nuzzles his nose against the back of her neck. He’s definitely asleep. 

She should scoot away. Or wake him. 

_ But… _

Spooning with him feels amazing. His warm hand spans her stomach, anchors her. Lord knows it’s been long enough since she’s gotten any. At this point, cuddling is almost as good as sex. Maybe not the best part, but pretty damn good. 

And she can surely move before he wakes up and realizes what’s going on. 

Relaxing into his embrace, Veronica drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Thankfully, her eyes pop open moments before her alarm goes off the next morning. Shutting it off, She puts some distance between herself and Logan and rolls over to look at him. 

Damn. 

The sheet is bunched up around his waist, showcasing his bare—and very impressive—chest. Muscles, abs, and those cut lines at his hips that make good girls do bad things. 

Whew. Maybe a cold shower would be a good idea this morning. 

“Hi.” His eyes flutter open, sleepy and content, and she wishes he was waking up in her bed for real.

“Morning,” she whispers. 

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good. You?”

“Well, this is kind of embarrassing but,” he runs a hand through his hair, it’s so cute sticking up in multiple directions, “I woke up at one point and I was, um, sleep groping you. I’m really sorry.”

He glances down, sheepish, and her cheeks feel like they are on fire. She’s definitely blushing. 

“I guess my subconscious was just acting out what I really wanted,” he continues. 

Silence stretches for a beat as Veronica processes this. 

“Wait, what? I haven’t had coffee yet but—“

“Veronica, I’m trying to tell you, I think you’re sexy as hell and I’d like to get to know you better. Outside of school.”

When she doesn’t say anything, he rushes on. “But we’re coworkers and we do this Student Council thing together and I totally understand—or maybe you just don’t feel that way and I’m making an ass of myself and—“

She closes the distance between them, cuts his words off with a kiss. 

“Are you kidding?” She giggles. “I mean, I kinda hated you at first but...I don’t anymore.”

“I was a dick, I’m sorry. I was trying to hide the attraction, thought ignoring you was the right call. But you’re really cute when you’re pissed at me.”

She kisses him again. “You’re messed up, you know that, right?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, it definitely is.”

Cupping her jaw, Logan gazes into her eyes. “Too bad we have to spend the day with high school students.”

“Yeah, it might be best if they don’t know about...this.” She gestures between them. 

“Agreed. 

Veronica’s eyes widen. “What will Principal Clemmons say?”

He laughs in her face. “I think Mr. C will be impressed with my good taste.”

“And fire me for mine?” But her eyes twinkle with mirth. 

“Nah, you’re safe. He knows he can’t find anyone else to be a Student Council Advisor.”

He kisses the tip of her nose, then hops out of bed. She shamelessly checks out his ass as he heads to the bathroom. 

_ Huh. Smiley face boxers. Would not have guessed.  _

But not in a million years did she see this coming, so really, maybe his underwear should be the least of her surprises. She can’t wait to see what’s coming next. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As you may have guessed, I was a high school teacher and a Student Council Advisor in a previous life. My co-advisor became my best friend!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Not In A Million Years](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121875) by [NorCal91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorCal91/pseuds/NorCal91)




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